


The Final Empire

by BlueEyesBlueHeart



Series: Mistborn Trilogy (Voltron) [1]
Category: Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Death, Mentions of Child Murder, basically I'll add more as I go, im just working stuff out, oh jeez this looks bad, right now it's only the prologue, sorry - Freeform, this isnt all of the characters trust me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16021586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyesBlueHeart/pseuds/BlueEyesBlueHeart
Summary: THE MISTS RULE THE NIGHT...EMPEROR ZARKON OWNS THE WORLD.For a thousand years the ash fell.For a thousand years Emperor Zarkon reigned with absolute power and ultimate terror, divinely invincible. Every attempted revolt has failed miserably.Yet somehow hope survives.A new kind of uprising is being planned, one that depends on the cunning of a brilliant criminal mastermind and the courage of an unlikely heroine, a Skaa street urchin, who must learn to master Allomancy, the power of a mistborn.AKA: Me completely ripping off Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy and sticking Voltron characters in it. Sorry, Brandon.Anyway, this gets very wordy and if you're not really into super-long books, this is not for you. I'm trying to make it less wordy, but seriously there's not much I can do.





	The Final Empire

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, if you've read the summary (it's a blatant rip off of the blurb on Brandon Sanderson's book by the way) you know that I'm not being very original. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the Mistborn series nor Voltron: Legendary Defender this is purely for my own pleasure and I do not gain any profit whatsoever from writing this. 
> 
> I would also like to say that most if not all of the dialogue and description in here is from the book and I only altered it to fit the characters and their goals. I also tried to shorten it because, Sanderson, your stories are wordy AF and I love it. It also took me an embarrassing amount of time (5 hours) to actually write all of this and most of it was copying. Is that plagiarism? Can I go to prison for that? I hope not.
> 
> There are more characters coming in later I promise. Ulaz is not the main character, and if you've read the series you know who is. 
> 
> And, honestly, if you don't want to read this, I don't blame you. This is mainly for me anyway, I just wanted to post it because maybe other people will like it? Idk. It gets very slow at certain points and the actual endgame is not what I want for the VLD characters, so, yes, there will be ships and towards the end I will be basically writing the story myself if I want it to go the way I want it to. 
> 
> Oh! Another thing, if you didn't know, this trilogy has three books of 600+ pages (this prologue was 15 pages), so if you want to quit now, quit while you still can. You will get sucked into this world and be demanding more chapters faster than I can give them to you, I know I would. But I'm not you, and you know what's best, so do what you like.
> 
> EDIT: Whoops, forgot to add this thing that is very important.

 

_Sometimes, I worry that I'm not the hero everyone thinks I am._

_The Philosophers assure me that this is the time, that the signs have been met. But I still wonder if they have the wrong man. So many people depend on me. They sat I will hold the future of the entire world on my arms._

_What would they think if they knew that their champion - the Hero of Ages, their saviour - doubted himself? Perhaps they wouldn't be shocked at all. In a way, this is what worries me most. Maybe, in their hearts, they wonder - just as I do._

_When they see me, do they see a liar?_

 

* * *

 

 

ASH FELL FROM THE SKY.

Lord Throk frowned, glancing up at the ruddy midday sky, cursing it for not ceasing while he was entertaining his distinguished guest. Ashfalls weren’t that uncommon in the Galra Empire, but Throk had hoped to avoid getting soot stains on his fine new coat that had arrived from the capital: Daibazaal that morning.

Throk stood with his guest on a small hilltop patio that overlooked the fields. Hundreds of people in brown smocks worked in the falling ash, caring for the small and pathetic-looking crops. They moved about with quiet apathy until the passing whip of the taskmaster would force them into dedicated motion, but it would quickly pass.

Throk turned to the man standing beside him on the hill. “One would think,” Throk noted, “that a thousand years of working in fields would have bred them to be a little more effective at it.”

The druid turned, raising an eyebrow – the motion done as if to highlight his most distinctive feature, the intricate tattoos that laced the skin around his eyes. The size of them indicated that this was a very important figure.

“You should see the city skaa, Throk,” the druid said, turning back to watch the skaa workers, “these are actually quite diligent compared to those inside Daibazaal. You have more… direct control over your skaa here. How many would you say you lose a month?”

“Oh, half a dozen or so,” Throk declared. “Some to beatings, some to exhaustion.”

“Runaways?”

“Never!” Throk exclaimed, offended. “When I first inherited this land from my father, I had a few runaways – but I executed their families. The rest quickly lost heart. I’ve never understood Galra who have trouble with their skaa – I find the creatures easy to control, if you show a properly firm hand.”

The druid nodded, standing quietly in his purple robes. He seemed pleased – which was a good thing. The skaa weren’t actually Throk’s property after all. Like all skaa, they belonged to Emperor Zarkon; Throk only leased the workers from his God, the same way he paid for the services of His druids.

The man in question looked up, checking the sun’s position. Despite the ashfall, the sun was bright that day, shining a brilliant crimson red behind the smoky blackness of the upper sky.

“Very well, Throk,” the druid announced. “I will carry your proposal to Lord Sendak, as requested. He will have a favourable report from me on your operations here.”

Throk held in a sigh of relief. Druids were obligated to witness any contract or business deal between Galran noblemen and for Throk, impressing Lord Sendak’s personally employed druid went a long way in terms of the Galra.

The druid turned towards him once again, “I will leave back down the canal this afternoon.”

“So soon?” Throk asked. “Wouldn’t you care to stay for supper?”

“No,” the druid replied. “Though there is another matter I wish to discuss with you. I come not only at the behest of Lord Sendak, but to… look in on some rumours for the Canton of Inquisition. Rumours say that during your time here as the overseer of this plantation and the skaa, you have been harvesting the quintessence of some of the skaa children.”

Throk felt a chill run down his spine.

The druid smiled eerily, emphasising the lack of human features on his face. “Don’t worry yourself, Throk, if there had been any _real_ worries about your actions, a Steel Inquisitor would have been sent in my place.”

Throk nodded slowly. Inquisitor. He’d never seen one of the inhuman creatures, but he’d heard… stories.

“I’ve been satisfied regarding your actions with the skaa on both accounts,” the druid said, looking back over the fields. What I’ve heard here indicates that you always clean up your messes. A Galra such as yourself – efficient, productive – could go far in Daibazaal. A few more years of work, some inspired mercantile deals, and who knows?”

At that Throk couldn’t help himself from smiling. To be given such praise – although it wasn’t an endorsement on many accounts – from the Emperor’s own servant made him want to celebrate. As a plantation nobleman he had dreamed of moving to Daibazaal, the glamorous balls and parties were always a thing of intrigue for him.

He then thought, what if I could get there faster? His skaa population had been growing recently, perhaps if he pushed them a bit more he could bring in an extra harvest and fulfil his contract with Lord Sendak in extra measure.

He was about to propose as much when he snuck a glance at the field. There was a small commotion happening just below them, but the taskmaster hadn’t noticed, he looked down at the lazy skaa to see one looking up. His surprise was evident on his face. The man met Throk’s eyes, a spark – no, a fire – of defiance showing in his expression. Throk had never seen anything like it, not in the face of a skaa. Throk stepped backward reflexively, a chill running through him as the strange, straight-backed skaa held his eyes.

And smiled.

Throk looked away. “Kurdon!” he snapped.

The burly taskmaster rushed up the incline. “Yes, my lord?”

Throk turned, pointing at…

He frowned. Where had the skaa been standing? Working with their heads bowed, bodies stained by soot and sweat, they were so hard to tell apart. Tresting paused, searching. He thought he knew the place… an empty spot, where nobody now stood.

But, no. That couldn’t be it. The man couldn’t have disappeared from the group so quickly. Where would he have gone? He must be in there, somewhere, working with his head now properly bowed. Still, his moment of apparent defiance was inexcusable.

“My lord?” Kurdon asked again.

The druid stood at the side, watching curiously. It would not be wise to let the man know that one of the skaa acted so brazenly.

“Work the skaa in that southern section a bit harder,” Throk ordered, pointing. “I see them being sluggish, even for skaa. Beat a few of them.”

Kurdon shrugged, but nodded. It wasn’t much of a reason for a beating – but, then, he didn’t need much of a reason either.

They were only skaa.

 

* * *

 

 

Ulaz had heard stories.

He had heard whispers of a time long ago when the sun had not been red. Times when the sky hadn’t been clogged with smoke and ash, when plants hadn’t struggled to grow, and when skaa hadn’t been slaves. Those days, however, were nearly forgotten. Even the legends were growing vague.

Ulaz watched the sun, his eyes following the giant red disk as it crept toward the western horizon. The day’s work was done; the skaa had been herded back to their hovels. Soon the mists would come.

Eventually, Ulaz sighed and turned to pick his way across the furrows and pathways, weaving between large heaps of ash. He avoided stepping on the plants – though he wasn’t sure why he bothered. The crops hardly seemed worth the effort. The plants seemed as depressed as the people who tended them, with wilted brown leaves.

Ulaz opened the door to a skaa hovel and took one last look outside, he could see the mists beginning to form. He checked for watchers before realising that there was no need for them. The skaa would not leave their homes as their fear of the mists was too strong.

 _I’ll have to cure them of that someday_ , Ulaz thought as he slowly shut the door behind him. _But, all things in due time._

At the sound of the door closing, conversation stopped. He faced a room of about thirty skaa, all waiting for the evening meal that bubbled enticingly in the cauldron in the centre of the room above the weakly lit fire pit.

“Good evening everyone,” Ulaz said with a smile, resting his pack by his feet and leaning against the door. “How was your day?”

His words broke the silence and the group that had been tending to the meal went back to it, disinterested. However there was a table of skaa that still watched Ulaz with dissatisfied expressions.

“Our day was filled with work, traveller,” said Tepper, one of the skaa elders. “Something you managed to avoid.”

“Fieldwork hasn’t ever really suited me.” Ulaz said quietly, his words filled with apparent guilt. He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal layers upon layers of long thin scars that ran lengthwise up and down his arms, as if something with claws had repeatedly raked them up and down.

Tepper regarded him for a long while. He was quite young to be an elder, maybe five years Ulaz’s senior, somewhere in his forties.

“You have some nerve, traveller,” Tepper said sternly, “that stunt you pulled with Lord Throk could have gotten all the skaa within a mile whipped.”

This made Ulaz look up from where his gaze had drifted to his shoes, “True,” he said confidently, “But those skaa could have also been whipped for standing in the wrong place, for pausing too long or for coughing when a taskmaster walked by.” Ulaz’s voice rose with every point he spoke, so much that the rest of the skaa in the building were looking at him once again. “I once saw a man beaten because his master claimed he had ‘blinked inappropriately’.”

Tepper sat with his eyes narrowed and posture stiff. His expression was unyielding.

Ulaz sighed dejectedly. “Fine. If you want me to go, I’ll be off then.” He slung his pack back up onto his shoulder and pulled back open the door.

Thick mist immediately began to pour through the doorway, drifting lazily across Ulaz’s body and pooling on the floor. Several people gasped in horror, others too stunned to make a sound. Ulaz stood for a moment, staring out into the swirling mists lit feebly by the cauldron’s fire.

“Close the door.” Tepper demanded quietly.

Ulaz did as requested, the mist dissipating as soon as the door shut. “The mist is not what you think, you fear it too much.”

“Men who venture into the mist lose their souls,” a woman whispered. Her words raised a question. Had Ulaz walked in the mists? What, then, happened to his soul?

 _If only you knew,_ Ulaz thought. “Well then, I guess I’m staying here.” He bent down to politely ask a boy for a stool. “It’s a good thing too – it would have been a shame for me to leave before I shared my news.”

The entire room seemed to perk up at this comment, the only reason they had tolerated him thus far – a renegade skaa that defied the Emperor at every step – he brought news of the outside world.

“I come from the North,” Ulaz stated. “From lands where the Emperor’s touch is less noticeable.” His voice was clear, giving the skaa no reason not to trust his every word. Soon enough all of the skaa on this plantation would know of Ulaz’s news, the skaa may be subservient, but they were incurable gossips.

“Local lords and ladies rule in the West,” Ulaz said, “and they are far from the iron grip of Emperor Zarkon and his druids. Some of the Galran noblemen are even finding that happy skaa make better workers than mistreated skaa. One woman, Lady Renoux, has even ordered his taskmasters to stop unauthorised beatings. There are rumours that she is considering paying wages to her plantation skaa, like city craftsmen might earn.”

“Nonsense,” Tepper said dismissively.

“My apologies,” Ulaz said, his eyes brimming with the disdain for the audacity of this man to call him a liar, “I didn’t realise that Goodman Tepper had been to Lady Renoux’s estates recently. When you dined with her last, did she tell you something she did not tell me?”

Tepper’s face fluched; skaa did not travel, and they definitely didn’t dine with lords or ladies. “You think me a fool, traveller,” Tepper said, “but I know what you’re doing. You’re the one they call the Survivor; those scars of your arms give you away. You’re a troublemaker – you travel the plantations, stirring up discontent. You eat our food, telling your grand stories and disappear, leaving people like me to deal with the false hopes you give our children.”

Ulaz looked down rather guiltily before lifting his head back up with new-found defiance. “Now, Goodman Tepper,” he remarked scathingly, “While your concerns are not completely unfounded, I have not come to steal your food, I have brought my own.” He stood, lifting his pack off the floor and tipping it upside down to empty the contents all over Tepper’s table.

The rest of the room crowded round and there was soon havoc as the children grabbed the juiciest looking fruits off the table first and ran to eat them before anyone could tell them no. There was some powdery bread and even some sausages in his haul.

In all the scatter, a summerfruit had rolled across the earthen floor and bumped into Tepper’s foot. He picked it up with caution and eyed Ulaz, carefully. “This is nobleman’s food…” He said as if it were a question.

“Hardly,” Ulaz replied. “Your Lord’s pantry is quite an embarrassment to his noble status, you know.”

Tepper looked as if Ulaz had hit him with the sausage. “You… you _stole from our master?_ ”

“Indeed.” Ulaz passed the rest of a piece of bread he had been nibbling to a little girl by his leg. “And, might I add that while your lord’s taste is quite deplorable, his eye for soldiers is far more impressive. Sneaking into his manor during the day was quite the challenge.” He smiled softly at the little girl after she started to babble to him about nothing in particular. 

Tepper gave up on trying to talk some sense into Ulaz about how that would affect the plantation workers in the long run, due to the fact he was just playing with the children. He could tell that the kids didn't get to play with the adults much, they didn't have the energy. In fact, every child over four looked sullen and miserable, as if they had already started on the plantation. 

It made Ulaz angry. 

 

* * *

 

 

Later in the night, Ulaz was cornered by an old woman, “Yer definitely a troublemaker ye are.”

Ulaz let a small smile come across his face. “And why is that?”

“I’ve seen yer kind before. I know wha’ wages, malconten’, an’ rebellion bring. The eye of t’Emprer and the Ire o’ the Steel Minstrey… Well, tha’ can be far worse than whippins, ye hear?” Ulaz heard her loud and clear. “Now, men like ye preach change, bu’ I wonder.” She looked straight at him, “is this a battle we can really fight?”

“The way I see it, Mennis, is that you’re already fighting the battle… and losing horribly.” Ulaz sighed. “But what do I know, I’m just a travelling miscreant, here to eat your food and impress your youth.”

Mennis studied his face with her dark eyes, “I reckon Tepper were righ’ about ye.”

“That’s why I didn’t contradict him about my ‘troublesomeness’, in fact it’s probably the most accurate thing he’s said all night.”

Mennis wasn’t listening, she was glancing down at his hands. She wrapped one of his in her own. “I only knew… one person who ‘ad scars like those. He was dead. His body was returned to Lor’ Throk as proof tha’ his punishmen’ had been carried ou’.” She regarded his face again, “He’d been caugh’… speakin’ o’ the rebellion. Lor’ Throk sen’ ‘im to the Pits o’ Hathsin, where he worked ‘til he died.” She glanced down again, “The lad only lasted a month.”

Where she traced the scars on his hand with her thumb, they burned, though Ulaz was convinced that it was only in his mind.

A scream ripped through the night. He had heard one like that, not so long ago, a child.

Ulaz burned tin, tapping into Allomantic power he barely knew how to use. Immediately he could see the fire in front of him with renewed vigour, he could feel the bumpy wood beneath him and he could taste the remnants of the bread he had eaten earlier; his senses were aflame. But most importantly, he could hear the screams. There were two, an older woman and a young boy, the boy was crying and from the dull thuds he heard, flailing against whatever was taking him. What he assumed must be the mother was crying out for Luis, her son’s name. All the skaa in the house looked toward the door sadly. He heard Tepper mutter to the man next to him, _Poor Maria, she’s already lost so much…_

Within moments Ulaz was by the door, empty pack abandoned as he turned. “Does Lord Throk ever return the children he uses?”

Old Mennis shook her head. “We don’ even know if they survive the process, love…”

Ulaz’s anger grew. “Oh, they most definitely do if they do it right…” It must be on Zarkon’s orders to drain them until they die, after all, who would miss a few skaa?

He threw open the door with reprised vigour. The screams waned, which built his determination. He had to do it _now_. He addressed the remaining skaa. “You must survive. I’m not here to lead a rebellion among you. I’m here to stir up some trouble.”

Mennis narrowed her eyes, “An’ wha’ good’ll tha’ do?”

Ulaz smiled. “New days are coming, if you survive a little longer, you just might see great happenings in the Galra Empire. I bid you all thanks for your hospitality.” With that, he strode off into the mist.

 

* * *

 

 

In the early hours of the next morning Mennis lay awake. It seemed the older she became, the more difficult it was for her to sleep. This was particularly true when she was troubled about the traveller’s failure to return the night before. She had hoped that Ulaz had come to his senses and moved on, as it had seemed such a shame that a man who had survived the Pits would find death here, on a random plantation, trying to protect a boy everyone else have given up for dead.

Eventually, the other skaa began to wake. Mennis lay on the hard earth – bones aching, back complaining, and trying to decide if it was worth rising. Each day, she nearly gave up. Each day, it was a little harder. One day, she would just stay in the hovel, waiting for the taskmaster to take her away.

That day was not this one, she saw the fear in too many eyes – they knew that Ulaz’s night-time activity would bring trouble. They needed Mennis, they looked up to her. She needed to get up.

Soon she was able to shuffle out of the hovel, leaning on a younger man for support.

It was then that she caught a scent in the air. “Wha’s tha’?” she asked. “Do ye smell smoke?”

“I always smell smoke,” said the young’un she was leaning on. “The Ashmounts are violent this year.”

“No,” Mennis said, feeling incredibly apprehensive. She turned to the North where a small group was gathering. She saw Maria at the centre, and by her side was Luis.

Maria was recounting the story of how Luis had banged on the door out in the mists screaming for his mother. “Flen was sure it was just a mistwraith impersonating him, but I had to ket him in! I don’t care what he says, I’m not giving him up! Not after Marco… and – and,” the woman next to Maria patted her back soothingly as she sniffled. She gathered herself together and threw herself back into the fray. “Anyway! I brought him out into the sun so that proves he’s not a mistwraith!” She looked around, daring anyone to oppose her, but Mennis wasn’t listening anymore.

How could they not see it? No taskmasters breaking them up, no soldiers doing the early morning population count. What _happened_?

She was about to make her way to the manor house when someone grabbed her hand. It was Luis. Everyone looked on as Luis spoke in a small voice, “He killed them all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, towards the end it was more of me trying to alter the dialogue and stuff mainly because Ulaz is not that much like Kelsier, but he was the only one that fit for what I'm trying to do so bear with me.
> 
> I made everything more equal in terms of gender because the whole universe is pretty sexist (nothing against Sanderson it worked for what he was going for), and Voltron isn't sexist much at all so I decided to, you know, do that. 
> 
> Also, in the OG book the boy who was having his quintessence taken? Yeah Lord Tresting (OG) was going to, uh, rape a girl to 'celebrate', mainly because he sees the Skaa as lesser than the noblemen, and that's kind of a recurring theme in this series and a very important one for many reasons (no spoilers). And because I don't like that at all, I'm changing it to quintessence because Voltron. 
> 
> In the OG book the skaa head East because there's a rebel camp there or whatever, but I don't think they come up again so it's not really necessary. Though I might for some emotional scenes including Lance later (if you hadn't realised his brother was here, I know Luis is cannonically older than Lance, but, you know, I can do what I want, because this is fanfiction and it works better that way). 
> 
> If I haven't said it already, go and actually read the OG series if you want to, it's really good just hang in there. But as I said before I can't force you to do anything. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading if you have. I'm not expecting many to actually read this because it's super fucking long and has no ships in it yet so... yeah, thanks. Sorry for rambling...


End file.
